


The Bleed

by orphan_account



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Bleeding, Blood, Don't mess with Jeremiah otherwise-, Kidnapping, Knives, M/M, Murder, Stabbing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-18 08:37:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15481881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “Being sane is just the same as balancing on a tightrope, with all the world and fun beneath you, you are always tensed, focusing only on the line. And all it takes a small push, a misstep and you are falling, never hitting the ground due to the infinite depth of the craziness, the never ending insanity.”Who could have thought that there would be a round two of operation 'Bruce Wayne Insane'?





	The Bleed

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING!  
> If you are sickened by blood and themes containing it think before reading! 
> 
> Also, please excuse for any mistakes because I don't write unless it's very late and I have nothing better to do. In this fic both characters are assumed adults. I hope you enjoy!

_How did we get here?_

The question echoes in Bruce's head as well as a tired yet fearful sigh he lets out. The time in this unknown, dark, cold place doesn't seem to exist, it's all in slow motion, he isn't fully aware of his surroundings as he can't really move his tied legs and wrists which are strapped to the leather chair, tightly enough for it to be impossible to slip out, but not too tight, as if the intention wasn't to harm or leave any marks at all, just leave the man absolutely immobile. His head, however, was free but with such sore neck and unwilling muscles it was hard to move it, but even if he could the blurred and distorted vision would get in the way of recognising certain objects. 

One thing, for sure, was clear; he didn't come here in his own will. That leads to another assumption, but most likely a fact - Jeremiah Valeska is the reason why he is here. It's more than likely due to the style of the place. As Bruce's vision cleared out he recognised the walls. Jeremiah's walls. The bunker's walls. At first it doesn't make sense, he blew up the place right in front of Bruce in just a heartbeat, but it's not like such an organised and ahead thinking man as Jeremiah couldn't have another one somewhere, just for himself and his... unfinished business. Secondly, what other villains would be so interested in him right now? Yes, they might capture him and try to get Jeremiah to the place and hand him over in return of the location of the bombs or the plans, but why tie? Why bother? Really. The chair looks rather new and unused, the light material perfectly clean and untainted.

“Ah, you are awake, I see. 3 hours unconscious from a slight sedative, you are rather a sleeper, wouldn't you say?” A voice from behind smirks, a familiar voice. Jeremiah. Bruce didn't even hear him walking in or making any sounds before, was he here the whole time? This thought sends a shiver down the boy's spine as he probably looked very confused and scared all this time and it was not the kind of image he wanted to make of himself to his capturer.  

“I just walked in,” Jeremiah says as if being able to read Bruce's mind. “you can keep the ' _wheres_ ' and ' _whys_ ' and relax, for now, as I'm going to explain everything.” He says playfully, finally stepping into Bruce's sight, revealing himself. Bruce wasn't surprised at all, there was nothing not inherent or new about the man's looks or manners, the fancy shoes and dark purple costume in place, red gloves too, matching his naturally red lips. 

He eyes the boy as if seeing a tied person for the first time then sighing. “Feeling well, I trust? I gave my men an order to restrain you, but not too tightly to cut off the circulation or anything of the like.” Bruce doesn't even flinch. Jeremiah was hard to read, the lack of emotion in his cold voice is almost disturbing and incredibly terrifying. He was certainly up for no good. Jeremiah watches carefully as Bruce clench his teeth and swallows hardly, eying him. 

“You said you'd explain.”Bruce reminds.

“Ah, yes, yes. Of course. Well, as fun as our last... _experiment_ with the fear gas was, I don't seem to get the expected results. Lets call this a round number two.” The pale man explains, getting closer and closer to Bruce with every word and with the _two_ he's close enough to feel the warmth radiating from the other's body, only radiating coldness himself. Bruce doesn't feel like talking to him in such close distance and flinches away. 

“You are a strong man, Bruce. Although it a very admirable characteristic, it is not everything.” Jeremiah giggles. Bruce didn’t seem intrigued by the talk nor did he feel any pleasure from such _compliments_ as this was obviously going to turn darker. But whatever it was, neither of them are expecting Bruce to give in so easily. 

“You look at me with such disgust, Bruce. But I am not your enemy. _You_ are your own enemy. I understand that you are scared of the change, but it’s necessary for it to occur if you want to finally feel free. Your this self is holding you to all the worst that has happened in your life, you are tied to the pain of that night in the ally, to the agony. Your emotions are conrolling you, Bruce, a successful and independent, free man doesn’t let such a thing happen.”

The room turns silent, Jeremiah’s face just a few inches from the bounded man, it is terrifying how close he is and Bruce breathes just too loudly. He hadn't prepared for any morals and was quite shocked when the words hit him; Jeremiah is actually right. His emotions are a weakness which is the reason of his usual problems. How valuable is the word of a massive killer and a psychopath, though? Only the alike could agree. Right?

Jeremiah sees sanity as a thin line that you are walking on. Being sane is just the same as balancing on a tightrope, with all the world and fun beneath you, you are always tensed, focusing only on the line. And all it takes a small push, a misstep and you are falling, never hitting the ground due to the infinite depth of the craziness, the never ending insanity. But Jeremiah knew he was in control of _his_ insanity, he may feel sane, but he was no longer walking on the line.

“There is nothing I want to learn from you, Jeremiah. You keep failing and this time is going to be no different.” Bruce states, barely able to resist the temptation to spit into the capturer's face.

“What a shame...” Jeremiah sighs, pretending to be disappointed. “Well, but we are not here for disappointments, are we?” With that he snaps his fingers enthusiastically, stepping out of Bruce's sight and walking away. The room probably isn't big as he seemed to quickly reach what he needed and approach Bruce again. “We are alike. I assume you, just like me have a high tolerance for pain and it's not something that you would get broken by easily. I have done my research however and there is something I would really like to try out.” 

Bruce can hear something rolling together with Jeremiah's steps. He tries not to be alarmed or panic, or at least not show it. 

“How good were at anatomy at school, Bruce?” Jeremiah asks, ghosting behind Bruce's back. Something clicks as if being opened and falls on the floor. Jeremiah is silent for a moment, receiving no answer, “Ah...” he sighs, “Well tell me then, how many pints of blood does a human body have?”

Bruce feels paralysed, but not for the restraints. The conversation isn't going the way he expected, but he was willing to play along as vexing Jeremiah will only make the things worse. 

“An average-sized man has about 12 pints,” Bruce says silently, trying to see Jeremiah behind him, but failing.

“That's right. And how much do you need to survive?”

Bruce freezes as he doesn't really know the answer. Is this a 'answer or die' quiz? Or more like 'answer or go insane'? 

“You need all of it, of course. Loosing less than 15% will cause no symptoms. 30% is when the skin turns colder, heartbeat quickens, weakness occurs, but it's still not too much too dangerous,  but after loosing 40% and more of your blood volume and not getting immediate resuscitative help you very simply... die.” Jeremiah drops the last word as does Bruce his adam's apple. He was still not sure where this was going, but it was already scary enough to make him worried. 

Jeremiah rests his hand on one side of the chair, his feet turning to Bruce and he finally reveals himself. Bruce looked into the cold, pale eyes which were still showing no emotion, before his gaze falls down to Jeremiah's pale hand, which was holding a big needle. The first thought that came to the boy's head was a drug, another Scarecrow's mixture, but the needle was as empty as Jeremiah's eyes. He noticed that it's attached to a tube, also empty, and the tube is connected to a bag. He recognised this as blood donation equipment, but given the context it was certainly not going to be donated. Realisation of being bled hits him and it shows on his face.

“I see you are concerned. Well, I'd lie if I said that there is nothing to be concerned about, but it's almost literally all in your hands.” Jeremiah says, reaching out for Bruce's tied hand and looking for a vein in a medical manner. Only now did Bruce realised that his hands were tied so the inner side of his wrists is revealed. And it takes a surprisingly short amount of time for him to locate a big blue vein underneath the skin of Bruce's elbow. His pale finger rests there. 

There is a rising temptation to protest, Bruce tenses his muscles and tries to break free from the leather restraints but it does nothing at all. 

“Not a fan of needles, I see. But you know what they say, just a prick. And remember what I said, it's all in your hands.” Jeremiah reminds, the needle dangerously close to the vein he's located. Bruce would shake if he could, but there is not enough room for the hands to move a bit. And it's when the sharp needle pierces the skin, sending red liquid into the bag quickly, dying it dark red. Bruce winced at the contact and Jeremiah whispered a “Sssshhh” which was supposed to sound calming, but instead he sounded like a ghost. 

Bruce leaned back to see how big the bag is. Luckly it didn't seem to be able to contain more than 4 pints and the short, but informative lecture he just received calmed him down a bit, knowing the intention at the very worst is to make him lose consciousness. Logically thinking though, why bother with all the show? The equipment costs, of course, unless it's stolen from a hospital, but it's not Jeremiah's style. There is probably much more to it than Jeremiah is telling. Jeremiah smiling is rare, but the corners of his lips rise up just a little bit, revealing the white teeth.

“The look on your face is priceless, Bruce, but don't get confused; I am a mystery to you just as much as you are to me,” he says and clicks something that makes the blood stop flowing, though the needle is still inserted. “There is a partition near the tube that stops the blood flow once applied," Jeremiah says gesturing at the matte tube. “I want to explain you what's going to happen and even though this scared expression on your face is really interesting, it would help if you'd stop looking at me like I'm about to slaughter you and relax a little, I'm sure the seat is comfortable and there is no need for you to be so tensed.”

As intense as the situation is, Bruce somehow manages to give his muscles a break and relaxes, releasing a sharp, nervous breath. Jeremiah's voice was hypnotizingly calm, it was difficult to comply especially being so exhausted. 

“There, excellent. Now, I'm removing the partition, but you don't need to worry about the blood at all, I'll take 2 and a half pints and not a drop more, just enough for the purpose.”  Jeremiah explains and does as promised. Bruce feels the pull of blood again, it's an unfamiliar yet strangely pleasant sensation. He focuses on the pale eyes. “Now, I know you must have wondered and been concerned about Alfred ever since you woke up. You needn't be, he is perfectly safe and probably even unaware if your disappearance since right now it'ssss...” he continues the s while looking for the watch on his wrist. “3:26 a.m and you can expect to be back by the morning and I promise no other marks of abuse than the little scab on your hand won't be seen, nor are you here to get tortured in any physical way. What is waiting after the conversation, however, might be considered mental abuse, but the intention is not to hurt you at all. As I said, I am no enemy to you.”

Bruce feels a cold hand on his bleeding one and the touch feels weirdly soft, Jeremiah really did believe in his own words.

“I don't want to scare you, Bruce, but I promised to explain everything. So, the purpose for the blood is a new mixture that Scarecrow made just for you. Unfortunately, person's bodily liquid is a necessary and unavoidable ingredient, it has to get mixed with the mixture and get back into the system. Why I'm bleeding you and not just infecting it right into the vein? I don't know that myself, but Crane said it's a better way so here we are, if you have any complaints please don't blame it on me, I'm just a deliverer.” He laughs, but it's nothing like Jerome's psychotic and playful laugh. It's a confident giggle as if he had just made an inappropriate joke in public and would be the only one who'd laugh awkwardly. 

Bruce wasn’t surprised by Scarecrow being involved, Jeremiah and him probably made quite a team. Although the thought of any of his work being infected right into his system wasn't fascinating at all. 

“I suppose you can already guess the purpose of the toxin, but that's just another thing you needn't be concerned about at the moment.” Jeremiah says, checking his watch and then the blood bag which was already half filled. He claps his hands at the success of getting what he needed and surprisingly gently detaches the needle from Bruce's skin, drawing another wince out of him. He works quickly and in a snap of his fingers the still invisible to Bruce door opens, whoever is behind taking the bag together with the equipment. 

However, there are other steps in the room even after the door slams closed. If it's not Jeremiah, who is in Bruce's sight, then who?

“Come here, my dear, be our guest.“ Jeremiah approaches the other person, gesturing at Bruce with his hand. The unknown doesn't seem to be familiar with the situation since there is a pause before they get closer, slowly and carefully, as if there was a lion ready to strike in front of them. And who knows, maybe there actually was?

Once the person is a few steps away from Jeremiah, Bruce meets fearful eyes, red from the tears already forming in them. As his eyes go down, he can see a blonde, curly haired young woman, her hands taped together. She seemed confused and scared, most likely not aware of who the man in front of her was. Bruce's face turns more and more like hers, once he makes a list of purposes she might be here for. Jeremiah steps closer, closing the distance between them. 

“Don't be so scared.” Jeremiah says, putting his hand on her back and encouraging to step forward, in front of still tied Bruce. “Are you familiar with this man?” He asks, pointing at Bruce. 

The woman sobs but doesn't hesitate to answer. “I-I'm not.”

“Very good, means he won't ruin his billionaire's reputation. Now, I see you are very worried and I'm not too much of a good liar so I'll be honest with you.” This makes the tension in the room rise, Bruce digging his nails into the leather arms of the chair, praying Jeremiah to deny his assumptions. “Today, I fear, is your unfortunate demise day. I want you to know that you were chosen totally randomly and not for any sins that you might or might not have done. Lets call it your one bad day.” The woman is alarmed and starts moaning, crying, teardrops dripping on the floor. She is ready to run, but Jeremiah reacts quickly, warping his pale hand around her stomach and locking her in place. “Now, we all have our bad days.”

Bruce starts squirming in his seat, burning with temptation to end Jeremiah.

“Yes yes, I will free you of those in a bit, I do expect you to behave, Bruce, do we make a deal?”

“I am not sure if I can contain myself from hitting you, Jeremiah.” Bruce threatens though it doesn't come out as dangerously as Bruce expected it to. 

“I am sure with some blood lost and sedative still in your system you will, eh? Now, before we begin, lets set the rules, shall we?” Jeremiah says, slipping one of his hands into his sleeve pocket, taking out a small but deadly sharp pocket knife, dangerously ghosting it near woman's neck. “I did say that Alfred is all safe and sound, however, did any of us here think I would let myself be one step behind?” Bruce furrows his eyebrows. If not Alfred, then... who? Jeremiah giggles again. “Think carefully, my friend.” 

It takes some time before it clicks - Selina! 

“Oh my god, you psychopa-”

“Ah ah ah, be careful with those names, Bruce, I am not my brother.” He releases the woman since she's paralysed by fear and won't run anywhere any time soon. He takes that one step that's left to close the distance between him and Bruce. “I am releasing you now, Bruce, don't make it difficult for any of us, there is no place for that in my plan.”

And Jeremiah does as promised, not bothering with removing the restraints by opening them as they were designed to, but simply cutting with a knife. It just confirms Bruce's earlier assumption of Jeremiah not being a fan of capturing people, the chair was a a very simply comfortable seat without restraints and certainly no use to Jeremiah anymore. He works quickly and soon Bruce's legs and wrists are free. 

Bruce tests out the freedom by rubbing his wrists, checking on his ankles. After founding no marks he looks at the frozen woman. His mind was racing like a train, coming up with different scenarios of how to escape, but he would risk Selina's life. Jeremiah smiles. 

“Yes yes, planning ahead is important, Bruce, but tsk tsk... Consequences won't be avoided at this point.” Jeremiah clicks his tongue for effect and offers his hand to the boy. Bruce looks at it with a complete, honest disgust. “I will be honest with you. I am certainly not a sadist, I do not get any joy by watching other people suffer, but since you are not really grasping the thing here, lets say I will think of something original for her and what do you call her... _Cat_ , if you don't communicate, hm?”

Bruce clenches his teeth as he thinks of Selina. _It's her or this_ he thinks. Jeremiah's words certainly did reach the destination and did the trick on Bruce as he, not using the help of Jeremiah's hand, stood up and mentally prepared for the worst, still not letting go of his escaping scenarios though. 

Jeremiah almost joyfully turns his feet and circles around the other man. Bruce doesn't know the reason for the sudden stillness and the lack of fight he puts on when he feels a cold, metal weapon being slipped into his palm, a cold hand making sure it stays there. Jeremiah squats down a little in order for his head to be in level with Bruce's, and again, there is not resistance when he guides him towards the victim. Bruce's other hand, shaky and clenched into a wrist can barely be anymore hold at the side of his thigh, the urge to use it against the pale man is almost unbearable. 

The woman realises what's going on only when it's too late, all this time she was probably unintentionally walking backwards, not realising she would simply hit a wall. Pure terror and panic can be seen on her face when the only way of escape is running right into the outpointed knife. Bruce's expression isn't much different though.

“Shhh, release the breath you are holding, just like that, let go of your fear together with it.” He whispers and can feel Bruce's muscles relax, his words working him like magic. “Good, now, I don't think she deserves to suffer, right there, on the left...” He sounded like he had something else to say and you could almost describe his voice as angelic, so soft and light as a feather, but the action that comes with the last word can't be described as anything else but satanic. His hand suddenly pushes forward, steal breaking the skin and piercing the heart so quickly that Bruce didn't even register the whimper that escaped her lips.

It's almost pathetic as the sound that Bruce makes is louder than the woman's. She immediately reaches for the wound, blood on her hands, tainting her clothes. It's even more pathetic that Jeremiah let go of Bruce as soon as the work was done, didn't even look him in the eye, can we even talk about any help for the woman?

“Will see you.” He whispers satanically and his laugh echoes in Bruce's head when Jeremiah is already metres away. “Your dear Selina was totally safe, give her my best regards. Have a nice day.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Your comments and criticism really do help me improve myself! ANY feedback is very appreciated!   
> I didn’t write about what happens after the toxic gets into Bruce’s system since it takes time to make it and I thought of writing a separate story, like a sequel to this.


End file.
